Deeply Buried
by Intrepid Inkweaver
Summary: I never thought that I would miss the uncomfortable way he used to stare at me with enough intensity to burn a hole in a brick wall.


I wrote this after watching Reading is Fundamental. I suppose it sort of goes with _If I go Crazy, Will you still call me Superman? _R&R!

~II

* * *

He would barely meet my eyes anymore. His eyes flit around my face, around the room, at his hands, at his shoes, only very briefly meeting my eyes. I never thought that I would miss the uncomfortable way he used to stare at me with enough intensity to burn a hole in a brick wall. It had always been me to break those showdowns—I was never able to hold his gaze for very long. I always did wonder what he saw, though, when he did that—because surely he was studying my soul and not just counting my freckles as Sammy had once joked.

He didn't even hold the same posture anymore. No longer was he the confident Warrior of God—or even the battered-and-bruised Fallen angel. Ever so slightly, he curled in on himself. It was only noticeable to someone who knew him well and took the time to study him. He even would flinch (a tiny little flinch) when someone gestured with their hands. It was so ridiculous that I had to wonder what in the world this madness had truly done to his mind because the last time I had tried to hit him, I had nearly broken my hand and he had barely even reacted.

I wasn't stupid. I saw the symbolism in the game of Sorry. When he first held it up, there was a part of me—a deeply suppressed part of myself—that wanted to cry at such a childlike move. It was amazing that part of myself was even able to raise it's head.

Cas always had been one of the few people able to bring it out.

The first time we met he had just dragged my ass out of the Pit. He knew that I had given in to Alistair—that I hadn't been strong enough to resist anymore and had done awful things to so many souls. And yet, the angel in front of me thought I was worthy. I deserved to be saved. That had been the first time that Castiel had made that deeply buried part of me twinge. He had made me **hope** for the first time since before I'd made the deal to save Sammy. (Because whether I'd admitted it or not, I'd been scared the whole time.)

Now I was sitting across from the same being who had given hope to a hopeless man (and so much more than that, too) as he asked for forgiveness that deep in my heart, I knew I'd already given. I couldn't bring myself to let him know that, though. Maybe suppressing my emotions for so long had made me cruel—not only to others, but to myself as well.

I felt bad after I threw my temper tantrum and scattered the board game to the floor. Especially when Cas knelt on the floor and began picking up the pieces one-by-one—despite the fact that I knew all it took was a thought for him to put it back in the box, perfectly organized. It was as if he was trying to atone for his sins by doing it the hard way.

His delight at sensing the angels in the building was similar to the reaction of a child hearing their parents come home after a long day. That buried part of myself winced again, knowing that no matter how much Castiel missed his brothers and sisters, they would not be happy to see him.

I also knew that the Enochian banishing sigil would hurt him. Mostly, though, I couldn't bring myself to care too much.

The concern the angel showed for Meg was irritating as hell, too. It made me want to stab her in the face with the Knife. (It may have occurred to me that this was more jealousy than anything, but that wasn't something I ever thought about for too long.)

I told Kevin—the new prophet—that the angels didn't care. But then I amended that statement to something more along the lines of being unable to care. They were built without the ability, and if they tried to develop past that, they ended up breaking, Falling, dying. Completely insane. Unable to meet my eyes anymore.

Thanks to our dear friend Meg, the angels managed to find us again. Of course. Nothing is ever simple for us. Honestly, I'm not sure what the worst part of that visit was. Hester seemed intent on throwing my guilt in my face. It wouldn't have surprised me if the bitch read my mind. I knew she was right. Cas was the way he was right now because of me. The very touch of me corrupts.

She was going to kill Cas and he didn't even bother to fight back. He was like the Lamb to the slaughter and opened not his mouth. For a moment I was actually terrified that I'd never get the chance to tell him that I'd forgiven him. Our resident demon angel-keeperstepped in at the last moment, though and saved him, so my feelings were once again locked away down in that deep part of myself that I never talk about.

I know I'll never be open about my feelings. I know I'll never be in tune with them like Sammy is. I've wrapped a wall around myself that's never going to come down. There are times, however, that I wish I could at least be able to say thank you. Castiel deserves that much, at least. As he said, he's always been willing to bleed for us.


End file.
